


superparadise

by MANIAvinyl



Category: Phandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), dan and phil
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Canon-Compliant, Dan Howell/Phil Lester Comfort, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hurt, Hurt Dan Howell, Hurt Phil Lester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Depressive Disorder, Major Illness, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, Suicide mention, Video: Daniel and Depression, suicide warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 01:04:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19121437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MANIAvinyl/pseuds/MANIAvinyl
Summary: Phil’s already noticed that something’s wrong with Dan by the time he finds a suicide prevention card on the floor of the subway. But the bullet points he reads only help to solidify what he already thinks; Dan is in trouble, and in need of more help than Phil can give.





	superparadise

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Other Side Of Paradise by Glass Animals— “Superparadise I held onto, but I settle for a ghost.”

Phil watched Dan quietly when he thought he wasn’t looking. He watched his eyes drift dully from the TV, down the the now-lukewarm mug of tea in his hand. He could sense a change inside his best friend, but then maybe the change had been gradual and Phil was just now realizing it. 

Like a light had gone off. 

“I’m tired,” Dan would say.

“You said that yesterday.”

“I’m allowed to say that.”

“I guess.”

But it went on for a while, and it reached a point where Dan wouldn’t leave his room for days on end. 

A friend of Phil’s had given him a card— it was meant as a joke, because he had found it on the floor of the subway. On the top it wrote _Warning Signs of a Suicidal Person._

 _One._ Excessive sadness. Phil looked down at the card and then up at Dan and his tired expression. Excessive sadness. Check.

—

Two weeks pass. They’re getting ready for their next world tour, and Phil knows it _should_ be a happy thing, even if mildly stressful, but Dan just looks sad, like nothing will turn out okay.

“The music still isn’t fucking right,” Dan muttered, face lit up by the blue LED of his laptop screen. “I can’t fucking get it right.”

“Dan, relax,” Phil murmured tiredly, turning over in the bed. “It’s too late for this.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, Phil. First show’s in... what, January? That’s only a couple months away.” he pushed his hair up out of his face, biting his lip furiously.

“Okay, okay. We can figure this out tomorrow, yes?”

“We’re never gonna fucking figure this out.”

“Why do you say that?” Phil asked, voice gentle as he rolled back over. “It’ll be okay, just relax.”

“Because nothing ever turns out right.” 

“That isn’t true,” Phil argued, but he was already half asleep. The last thought before he drifted into black was _hopeless._

—

Phil turned the card around, flipping it between his fingers. Number two: Hopelessness. Check.

“Hey,” Phil murmured. 

“Hey.”

“Did you have breakfast?”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

“Dan, you need to eat...”

“I’m fine.”

“We can call Lindsay about the music now, if you’d like,” Phil said softly, sitting down at the table. Dan was sipping his coffee.

“No, it’s okay,” he muttered, tilting the mug and watching as the coffee looked from one air to the other. “I don’t know. Forget it.”

“Well, if you really want to—“

“I said forget it,” Dan hissed dangerously, standing up. “Nothing fucking turns out right. It doesn’t matter.”

“Dan, where are you going?” Phil asked finally when Dan crossed through the doorway. 

“I don’t know,” Dan muttered, pulling on his coat. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me, okay? I need to know where—“

“Can you just lay the fuck off?”

“No, I will not, you—“

“I said will you just _lay the fuck off_!”

The words were said with such force that Phil was surprised the windows didn’t just explode outwards from the sheer strength of Dan’s voice alone. Phil froze in shock.

He sat stunned at the table as he heard the door slam shut, and then everything went silent. His ears rang with _anticipation_.

—

Dan didn’t show up until three days later, and usually Phil wouldn’t worry because Dan has _done_ this kind of thing before, just disappeared and came back days later. Besides, Dan was an adult; he didn’t need to tell Phil everywhere he went.

Phil had called, twice, but never received a call back so he’d been getting worried. 

Phil flipped the card between his fingers, and noted that the ink had rubbed off in certain spots where his fingertips most often touched the paper.

He replayed their last interaction over and over, Phil trying, just grasping at _anything_ he could’ve done or said wrong that could’ve caused Dan’s outburst. Because that was number three on the list: Rage and uncontrolled anger. But it couldn’t count as uncontrolled anger if it was Phil’s fault in the first place.

“Where’d you go this time?” Phil murmured. Dan was sitting rigidly on the couch, phone and laptop resting net to him.

“Crashed at a friend’s place.”

Phil decided to not press it— he didn’t need to know. It wasn’t important. What was important was that Dan was hitting each and every point on this card and it was _scaring_ Phil. He’d seen a change in his best friend, though gradually at first, and then all at once. It’s true, Dan’s always had his things, but those _things_ seem to have only gotten worse. 

“Okay... well, if you need anything—“

“I don’t.”

Phil swallowed back his words and turned his gaze back to the tv, which bled static LED into the dark room. 

—

Dan wasn’t sleeping. Phil recognized that now, that it wasn’t just a personality thing, or Dan just being the night owl he claims to be. He’s seen the empty bottles of niquil and over-the-counter melatonin in Dan’s bathroom, the array of pills that just never seemed to work right, and he realized it wasn’t just _nothing_. 

“We’ve got a meeting tomorrow,” Phil said, and Dan jumped.

“Don’t fucking do that again,” he muttered. “Fuckin’ scared me.”

“Oh. Sorry. Um, meeting. With the producers and stuff.”

“I’m busy.”

“With what, Dan?” Phil exclaimed, pausing from taking an empty glass from the cabinet. “We’ve had this date settled for... what, months? We release the video Saturday.”

“I know,” he mumbled.

“Which means we have to go to this meeting.”

“I can’t, Phil. I—“ he took a shaky breath. “Please, we have to call it off.”

Phil blinked. “What?”

“I can’t do it. The tour, the shows. I can’t.” 

“I’m- I’m not understanding—“

“I can’t do the tour, Phil. I’m not going.” 

“But we’ve been planning this for months! We— I mean, most of the shows have been set for a while, and—“

“God, please, I’m sorry,” Dan whispered. “I’m sorry...”

Phil paused, watching Dan’s face crumple. He looked _guilty_ , and Phil knew he didn’t want to do this.

“Why?” Phil asked quietly.

“I’m— I don’t know.” But there’s something in his voice, detached and scared. 

“I can’t just call off something we’ve worked on for months without knowing why,” Phil said. His voice was gentle, but stern. “So figure it out, okay, or tell me the truth.”

Dan didn’t reply for a long time, staring numbly at his palms. They were shaking; Phil could see it from here. 

Slowly, Phil reached for the card sitting in his back pocket. Dan still hadn’t looked up, and Phil read over it again and again until he was sure that all eight points were firmly engraved into his mind.

“Dan?” Phil whispered. “Come with me, okay?“

“Why?” came the croaked answer.

“Just get your jacket, alright? We— we have to talk.”

—

“Why are we here?” Dan asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You bring me up here to push me off?” he snorted. 

Phil realized, with a sad wonder, that that’s how Dan filtered his pain— how he’s always filtered his pain. Through humor.

He’d gained some control now, and didn’t look as scared. Phil took that as a good sign. 

“It’s usually easier to talk about shitty things when you’ve got something to look at.” He leaned back against the wall, still standing, looking out across their city from the roof of their apartment building. The sky was dark, and there were no stars. The stars never came out in a city this big. 

“What shitty things?” Dan scoffed, but it was weak. He didn’t move his gaze from the city lights.

“Look,” Phil said, taking a deep, shaky breath, holding out the worn card for Dan to take. “Read it.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a card someone found. Look, Dan, I think...” he swallowed thickly. “I think you’re not okay.”

Dan was silent for a while, leaning back against the wall as the wind puffed up his jacket, and somehow he looked so unbelievably _small_. 

“That bad, huh?” Dan chuckled finally. “It’s gotten that bad.”

“Stop laughing, Dan.”

He dropped the forced smile. “Okay.”

“I’m being serious. This is a serious thing, okay? Did you read the card?”

“Yeah. I read the card.”

“Look at me.” Phil turned his head and waited until Dan’s glazed-over eyes met his. “I think you’re gonna need help, alright? More help than I can give you.”

“Fine,” Dan whispered, dropping the stare.

“And I _want_ to help you, you know,” Phil continued gently. “But there’s only so much I can do.”

“Fine.” but he sounded so pained, and tired and _defeated_ that Phil almost broke down himself. 

“You know you’re _allowed_ to cry, right?” he murmured.

“I don’t _feel_ like crying, Phil,” Dan whispered. “It’s like there’s a hole, like I’m just _missing_ part of me. I just feel empty.”

“Then _talk_ to me, Dan.”

“Don’t you think I’m trying?” Dan muttered shakily. “It’s hard.”

“I know.” Phil slid down the wall until he was sitting. “I’m sorry, I know.”

Dan did the same, then buried his face in his hands like he just wanted to hide. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dan whispered. “Everything I do, I’m hurting you. I’m hurting _somebody_ , the fans...”

“Dan...”

“I’m just empty, you know? I should have feelings, I should _feel_ things but I just... don’t.”

“It’s okay,” Phil said softly. “It’s gonna get better.”

“I don’t know.”

“ _I_ do.”

“Bullshit, Phil. I know you think that people... people _want_ to hear that, but it’s not true. Nobody wants to hear normal people saying how much they understand.”

“Alright,” Phil said, even though it stung. “I’m sorry.”

Dan bit his lip but didn’t reply, but Phil knew that Dan was sorry for snapping; this is what always happened.

“Tell me why we need to cancel the tour,” Phil murmured.

Dan sighed, rubbing his face before looking out. “Because you’re right. Because I don’t feel okay. I don’t think I can do it— I can hardly even do what we’re doing now, which is just sitting around at home. I don’t know why I ever thought touring would be a good idea. Honestly, I don’t.”

“Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Um, are you afraid of... of what’s on the card?” He meant suicide.

“A little bit?” Dan said, voice quiet. “I’ve— it’s always been there, you know.”

“I know.” And he did know, because Dan’s always had his things. 

“I’m scared to go on tour,” he said breathlessly. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Okay. Okay, we’ll call it off.” Phil looked at Dan, eyes gentle. Phil reached for Dan’s hand, but instead of recoiling, like he usually does, he fell into Phil’s arms, trembling. “It’ll be okay. Promise.”

Dan was quiet for a while. “Alright.” He swallowed. “Thank you.”

—

That night Phil sat awake, unable to fall asleep in his bed, so he climbed out onto their balcony overlooking the winding Thames and the east half of London. He didn’t know what hour it was, but everything was dark. It felt as if reality wss altered, just a little bit. 

He thought about Dan, and how unfair it was that he had to fight every single day, but against himself. He thought about the way Dan’s brain worked— too fast and in all the wrong directions. How he analyzed everything he saw: people, situations, television. 

He sat awake and thought about mental health, and all he knew about it. Which admittedly wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to know that none of this was Dan’s fault. His childhood, his parents and financial situations and other kids— they were never his fault, so this wasn’t his fault, either. He knew that much. 

But God, he wanted Dan to be okay. He wanted Dan to be able to wake up in the morning and feel okay. 

None of it was fair. The lump in his throat grew, until he could feel the familiar sting of tears in his eyes. He lifted his sweatshirt up over his face, cheeks growing hot, and took a deep, trembling breath. 

If they’re not careful, they could really lose Dan. Anxiety bubbled up in Phil’s throat, and he could feel it, and it just grew and grew until he thought he might really be losing it. His reached out, gripping the cold steel bars in front of him. It did enough to ground him. He pulled back, pressing his hands together as he took deep, deliberate breaths. 

But something inside him snapped, like a rubber band that’s been stretched too far, or a splintering piece of wood under pressure. Hot tears poured down his cheeks, and he shut his eyes tight.

And he just waited for it to pass.

He would just have to wait whole thing out, and see what comes with Dan and him and the monster. Because he was not in control of this situation— nothing he did would really do anything. He just had to let it be.

—

Dan was making breakfast already by the time Phil woke up. It smelled like bacon and french toast, and Phil sleepily meandered his way to the kitchen.

“Hello, love,” Phil murmured.

“Good morning,” Dan said. “French toast?”

“God, yes please.”

Dan grinned, taking the sizzling pan and flipping it over on top of Phil’s plate. “Homemade,” he added.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Phil said, amused. “It looks delicious, Dan.”

“Thank you,” he grinned. After a while of turning over the bacon on the pan, and Phil enjoying the food, Dan spoke up.

“Um,” he started, nervous. “Also, thank you, for, uh, calling me out. For trying to help me.”

“Yeah.” Phil felt sick, in a sad sort of way. He didn’t want to talk about it.

Still, Dan continued. “No, I— I’m an, um, mess, Phil. Thanks for, uh, for not giving up on me when I was being difficult.”

Phil nodded, taking a drink of his orange juice. “You weren’t being difficult.” Something twisted in his stomach, though.

“No, I— I was. I am. I had no right to try and cancel the shows without telling you why.” 

Phil nodded, and vaguely noticed that Dan was still talking, but didn’t have it in him to listen or process the words. He just felt disconnected— from everything. Yet something in his mind told him to suck it up and just smile and nod, riding on autopilot as he responded. 

Because this, here, the being afraid for Dan, the being sad for him, it was something Phil would have to battle alone. And it would be fine, because he’s the strong one— he has to be. Making things worse wasn’t an option. 

Phil knew it would hurt for a while, but the discomfort would eventually dissipate, he knew. This was something he’d have to do alone. 

But in the end, he knew it would all be okay. Because that’s how things were with him and Dan; it would all be okay, as long as they had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this!!


End file.
